


Coffee & Beignets

by orphan_account



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: 1970s AU, :)), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, baker!sledge au, cute bakery tomfoolery, more to b added !, theyre vietnam war vets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-01-31 12:26:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You can smoke if you want. Ain’t like you’d be the first.” Pale eyes slid up to meet Eugene’s as he reached into his pocket for the pack of smokes Eugene had assumed to be there. He maintained uncomfortable eye contact as he flicked his lighter with nimble fingers, lighting up a cigarette and bringing it to his full lips in a manner that made Eugene feel like the earth was moving in slow motion, for whatever reason. He wasn’t sure what that was about. Perhaps it was the mischievous glint in the man’s eyes, the way his cheeks drew in on the inhale to highlight his sharp bone structure, the pout of his mouth and slump of his shoulders as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.  Something about the man was drawing Eugene into a kind of stupor which would surely have become noticeable had the man not spoken again.“You got any beignets, boo?”OR: A 70’s au featuring baker sledge and rascal snafu(but that’s not new)





	1. one

**April, 1976  
San Francisco, California- The Castro **

The room glowed pleasantly in the beams of afternoon sun streaming through the storefront windows. Although usually the bakery sat in the shadows cast by surrounding buildings, it was that perfect time of day- Eugene’s favorite- when the sun’s path brought it to a point at which its light actually made it into the shop. Dust particles danced in the rays of light, floating in the still air. Eugene breathed deeply, contentedly, as he bent over the cupcake he was decorating to add the finishing touches of icing. He had his hand poised to add a delicate icing flourish when an abrupt interruption to the shop’s tranquility startled him, resulting in a harsh squeeze of the tube he was holding and a simultaneous jolt forward of his face into the cupcake. 

“Fuck,” Eugene cursed under his breath. Sparing a last mournful glance at his lost cause of a cupcake and wiping at his newly iced nose with the back of his hand, Sledge directed his gaze at the man who had just noisily waltzed through the door (although maybe that was just Eugene’s bitterness at the loss of his cupcake speaking; with all fairness, the man hadn’t entered the shop with any more commotion than the average customer. Maybe Eugene was to blame for installing those noisy bells above the door. Not that he would ever admit it.) He plastered a pathetically transparent fake smile onto his face. “Hi, welcome to Gene’s Bakery and Café, how can I help you today?”

The man stood just inside the door, having frozen as he watched the scene in front of him unfold. He had curly hair that danced along the border between neat and messy, and his pale eyes fixed Eugene with an amused stare from beneath heavy lids. When he spoke, his words were round and heavy with a Cajun accent. 

“Can you help me?” His eyes glided down to the mangled cupcake on the counter in front of Eugene, then made their way back up to Eugene’s, lingering on the smudge of white icing that remained on the tip of his nose. Sledge narrowed his eyes. “Chér, I hate to say it, but of the two of us it don’t seem like I’m the one in need of assistance,” he replied with a lazy smirk. “You icin’ cupcakes?” He moved closer to the counter behind which Eugene had been working. Leaned across it, getting all up in Sledge’s personal space and resting his weight on a skinny forearm. The man had a very light dusting of freckles across his round nose, Sledge noted absently, before deciding that this observation meant he was too close to the stranger and taking a step backwards. He nodded and gestured to the tubes of icing littering his workspace. 

“Yeah.” Clearly. Eugene wondered why he would ask if he had walked in on him visibly icing cupcakes. In any case, Sledge’s customer service smile persevered as he tried again. “Sir, is there anything I can get for you today? Coffee?” The man nodded. Sledge moved to busy himself with pouring out a mug of coffee from the pot and sliding it to a spot at the bar adjacent to the main counter. “Anythin’ else? Gotta whole display full of fresh baked goods. I promise they’re at least decent,” he said with a half-grin. 

The man picked up the coffee mug with one hand and took a deep sip, the fingers on his other twitching in the familiar way that Sledge’s did whenever he was having a particularly rough day. Head inclining slightly, he addressed the customer again.  
“You can smoke if you want. Ain’t like you’d be the first.” Pale eyes slid up to meet Eugene’s as he reached into his pocket for the pack of smokes Eugene had assumed to be there. He maintained uncomfortable eye contact as he flicked his lighter with nimble fingers, lighting up a cigarette and bringing it to his full lips in a manner that made Eugene feel like the earth was moving in slow motion, for whatever reason. He wasn’t sure what that was about. Perhaps it was the mischievous glint in the man’s eyes, the way his cheeks drew in on the inhale to highlight his sharp bone structure, the pout of his mouth and slump of his shoulders as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. Something about the man was drawing Eugene into a kind of stupor which would surely have become noticeable had the man not spoken again. 

“You got any beignets, boo?”  
——  
The next few days saw beignet boy (as Eugene had resolved to refer to him by the second day- ‘the man’ really was not a fitting title for him. He was too impish and scrawny to be referred to as a man) becoming a regular customer at the bakery. Sledge had never had a regular before, but he supposed this was what it must be; coming into the bakery every day, ordering a coffee and a beignet, and fixing Eugene with an eerie stare as he ate and smoked. Leaving without a word. Eugene’s curiosity grew. What was his name? Where was he from? Why was he suddenly showing up at his bakery every day? Was he... like Sledge? Like so many of the other men in the area who had come seeking a sort of respite from the world’s cruelty? Of course, Sledge could’ve just asked, and he surely would have within a couple more days, but four days into this new routine he was saved (more or less) from having to do so. 

That day when beignet boy had entered the bakery- later than usual, Eugene shamed himself for noticing; he had been futilely pretending not to glance curiously at the door every thirty seconds when he had stumbled in- he had seemed disheveled, a flush highlighting his cheekbones and his chest rising and following more rapidly than usual. Before Sledge could even open his mouth to voice his confusion, beignet boy lifted a finger to his mouth in a shushing motion and made a beeline for the single stall bathroom near the back of the room. They locked eyes momentarily, Eugene’s full of confusion and beignet boy’s shining with a wild glint, before beignet boy rushed into the bathroom and shut the door. 

Eyebrows furrowed, Eugene mouthed a quiet “What the fuck?” before resigning himself to continue wiping down the counter as he had been before beignet boy had entered. Before he could pick up his rag, however, the door abruptly jingled open again as another man entered. Sledge vaguely recognized him as the man who ran the bar a few stores down from his, a place called Burgie’s that Eugene frequented on Friday nights. “Hi, welcome to Gene’s Bakery and Caf-“ Eugene’s fake customer service smile tightened as he was interrupted. 

“You seen someone come by here? Yay high-“ He raised his hand to about waist level- “Curly hair, skinny as Hell?” He paused for a minute before adding on. “Cajun accent?” He was clearly referring to beignet boy, and Eugene, feeling some odd sort of loyalty to his new regular, hadn’t intended to give away his location, but- his eyes darted towards the restroom of their on volition. Burgie the bar owner’s head swiveled towards the bathroom, eyes narrowing. He marched over and pounded on the door with determination. 

Sledge could hear a muffled “occupied” come from the other side. 

“Shelton! I know you’re hiding in this poor goddamn baker’s restroom! Get out here and come back to work or I swear to God-“ The door creaked open and Burgie’s fist almost collided with beignet boy’s- Shelton’s lazy grin. 

“Whatchu gonna do, huh boo? Fire me?” Shelton spoke with a calm defiance that told Sledge he knew he wouldn’t be getting fired any time soon. From the look on Burgie’s face, though, Eugene would’ve guessed otherwise. Shelton turned towards Eugene. “Aw, gingersnap, you sold me out? And here I was thinkin’ we had some kinda connection,” he said, lighting a fire in Sledge’s cheeks. Burgie let out a sigh and grabbed him by the sleeve of his t-shirt, beginning to tug him back towards the entrance.

“Snafu, you can’t just piss off customers and run off, leaving me to deal with them. That pisses _me_ off.” Snafu- Eugene’s eyes widened slightly at the name, an acronym he’d heard frequently during his time in Vietnam. Beignet boy was military? _Situation Normal: All Fucked Up._ It suited him. Burgie continued on his tirade. “And harassing neighborhood business owners? I would say I thought you were better than that, but you and I are both aware that you’re not. At least apologize to Eugene.” Sledge wondered briefly how Burgie had known his name before remembering that it was clearly printed both on the name-tag he was wearing and on the sign outside his shop. He opened his mouth to deny the necessity of an apology, but was cut off once again. 

Snafu shot Eugene a sly grin. “Sorry, chér, I di’n’t to intrude,” he drawled with a wink as he was pulled out the door. “I’ll buy an extra beignet tomorrow just to make up for it.” 

With that, the pair were gone, and Eugene was left with a distinct warmth in his cheeks and the memory of a Cheshire Cat grin lingering behind his eyes.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a rainy day at the bakery

Rain was an issue for Eugene. He used to love it- love the reminder of home, of muggy Alabama summers and carefree joy. A reminder of his family- summer nights spent with his family chatting on their screened-in porch, Deacon’s head in his lap while he scribbled at a notebook. His mother, pointing out a faint rainbow over the field behind the estate to a young and sweet Eugene. Of Sid- evenings in town getting ice cream and shooting the shit, interrupted by the refreshing downpour of a sunshower. Humid afternoons in early August spent swimming in the creek regardless of weather, because what’s a little rain if you’re already soaked? 

Sometime during his first rainy season in Vietnam, Eugene’s perception of the rain had soured. Summer nights on the dry porch with family became countless hours spent propped up in the mud inventing shapes in the darkness of the forest, the pelting of rain against helmet maddening. Deacon passed on, and Eugene stopped writing. Rainbows became deafening flashes of light over the horizon, and evenings in town with Sid became search and destroy missions to flooded little villages where the Cong was sure to be waiting for them. Became ten men lost in a swift firefight. August afternoons in the creek became twelve hour marches through stagnant water, rifles held above heads and eyes on the next man in formation.

And now that Alabama was nothing but a distant memory, a past home where he was no longer welcome, the San Francisco rain felt like Vietnam rain. Felt like despair, repetition, and rot. On days when it rained in San Francisco, Eugene woke up feeling heavier than he had since the war, feeling incapable of leaving his apartment. But he had a business to run.

Sledge was kneading dough with a trancelike intensity, eyes glazed over, ears focusing on the patter of the rain. His arms went through the motions of the activity; the repeated press, release, press, release of his firm palm into the dough. Press, release. Press, release. _Slam,_ release. _Slam,_ relea-

“Eugene!” A voice cut through Sledge’s stupor and he sucked in a harsh breath, snapping his gaze up to the source of the interruption. _Snafu._ From the slight crease in his brow Sledge could tell this wasn’t the first time he’d attempted to catch his attention. After the odd incident with him and Burgie about a week and a half prior, Snafu had continued visiting the bakery daily, always ordering the same thing. At this point Eugene usually had it ready for him before he arrived. Today his preoccupied state got the best of him. When Eugene’s eyes met the pale ones fixing him with a questioning look, he averted his gaze.  
“Snafu.” Eugene had started addressing him by his nickname the morning after the incident. 

( _“Good morning, Snafu.” A lazy curl of lips, hooded eyes trailing down to Eugene’s nametag and back up to his face.  
“Mornin’, Eugene.”_) 

Now there was no humor in those eyes, only something detached that Eugene couldn’t quite place. “Same as usual?” He had already started pouring a mug of coffee with shaking hands. With an affirming nod from Snafu, Eugene set the mug down in front of him, slipped him a beignet from the display case, and busied himself with making his own coffee. The spoon clattered unsteadily against his glass mug when he stirred in the milk.

He felt Snafu’s eyes boring into the side of his head as he raised the trembling mug to his lips and downed it in one go. Ignored them and returned to the dough he had abandoned on the counter. Resumed kneading. _Press, release. Press, release._  
___

Around 8:30 that night, Eugene was stepping out onto the wet sidewalk to lock up the bakery. The downpour had reduced to a light drizzle, like the sky was spitting on him. The rainwater trailing its way down the glass door of the bakery glinted in the orange glow of the streetlights. 

Turning around from the locked door, Eugene dropped his keys on the ground with a sharp gasp as he was met with shining blue eyes and the glowing end of a cigarette. He cursed and bent to pick them up as Snafu let out a chuckle. 

“Y’alright there, chér? Di’n’t mean to startle you.” Judging by the look in his eyes and the smirk on his lips, he absolutely had meant to startle Eugene, who gave Snafu an unamused look. He was turning to make his way up to his apartment when Snafu spoke again. “Aw, don’t give me none of that, Gene. I was jus’ messin’ with you.” His hand moved jerkily up in front of his chest, fingers twitching as if to reach out, before abandoning the movement and going to rub at the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, well,” Eugene huffed. “You damn near gave me a heart attack.” The scowl on his face deepened. He really didn’t need Snafu hanging around bothering when all he wanted was to collapse in his bed after a difficult day. “What’re you doing out here anyway?” There was no reason for Snafu to be outside of his shop at 8:30 pm. 

Snafu’s expression stuttered briefly before returning as he took a slow drag from his cigarette and moved to lean back against the streetlamp post. “Talkin’ to you, boo, what’s it look like?” The cloud of smoke from his exhale swirled through the orange light, and Eugene’s eyes followed it out of the glow before coming to rest on the starless sky. He exhaled through his nose and brought his gaze back down to the man across from him. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Eugene said, moving towards the alley that contained the entrance to the apartment above the bakery. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. It’s been a long day, and-”

Snafu cut him off (something that seemed to be turning into a routine) with a rush of words. “You wanna come hit up Burgie’s? Looks like you could use a drink.” He took another drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a puddle on the ground, resulting in a small sizzling sound. As Eugene paused and turned back towards him, Snafu’s eyes slid over him uncomfortably, pausing on his slumped shoulders, tired eyes, and mussed up hair. “Or five,” he added. 

Eugene stood frozen in consideration. Ever since he’d come out to the Castro, he’d basically become a recluse. Working in the bakery, going out for necessities, and returning to his dingy little apartment. Not that he’d been particularly sociable back home, especially after Vietnam, but- part of the reason he’d come to California had been to meet new people; to put himself out there, the real him. _The real Eugene Sledge._ He took a steadying breath and nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I could use a drink, just- let me go change, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, thanks for reading & i hope you enjoyed! comments&kudos are greatly appreciated!!  
> come talk to me on tumblr @freddie-jupiter  
> [thank you to max for the au idea- find her on tumblr @maxilgal and ao3 @maxil_gal]

**Author's Note:**

> thank u guys for reading!! comments & kudos r greatly appreciated!! special thank u to max for coming up w the beautiful idea for this au,, hope u enjoyed!!  
> come say hi to me on tumblr @freddie-jupiter


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